x.x.xI I speak of that famed damsel, by whose spear O'erthrown, King Sacripant on earth was flung; The worthy sister of the valiant peer, From Beatrix and good Duke Aymon sprung.

By daring deeds and puissance no less dear To Charlemagne and France: Since proved among The first, her prowess, tried by many a test, Equal to good Rinaldo's shone confessed.

x.x.xII A cavalier was suitor to the dame, Who out of Afric pa.s.sed with Agramant; Rogero was his valiant father's name, His mother was the child of Agolant.

And she, who not of bear or lion came, Disdained not on the Child her love to plant, Though cruel Fortune, ill their wishes meeting, Had granted to the pair a single greeting.

x.x.xIII Alone thenceforth she sought her lover (he Was named of him to whom he owed his birth), And roved as safe as if in company Of thousands, trusting in her single worth.

She having made the king of Circa.s.sy Salute the visage of old mother earth, Traversed a wood, and that wood past, a mountain; And stopt at length beside a lovely fountain.

x.x.xIV Through a delicious mead the fountain-rill, By ancient trees o'ershaded, glides away; And him whose ear its pleasing murmurs fill, Invites to drink, and on its banks to stay; On the left side a cultivated hill Excludes the fervors of the middle day.

As first the damsel thither turns her eyes, A youthful cavalier she seated spies;

x.x.xV A cavalier, who underneath the shade, Seems lost, as in a melancholy dream; And on the bank, which gaudy flowers displayed, Reposing, overhangs the crystal stream.

His horse beneath a spreading beech is laid, And from a bough the shield and helmet gleam.

While his moist eyes, and sad and downcast air, Speak him the broken victim of despair.

x.x.xVI Urged by the pa.s.sion lodged in every breast, A restless curiosity to know Of others' cares, the gentle maid addressed The knight, and sought the occasion of his woe.

And he to her his secret grief confessed, Won by her gentle speech and courteous show, And by that gallant bearing, which at sight, Prepared who saw her for nimble knight.

x.x.xVII "Fair sir, a band of horse and foot," he said, "I brought to Charlemagne; and thither pressed, Where he an ambush for Marsilius spread, Descending from the Pyrenean crest; And in my company a damsel led, Whose charms with fervid love had fired my breast.

When, as we journey by Rhone's current, I A rider on a winged courser spy.

x.x.xVIII "The robber, whether he were man or shade, Or goblin d.a.m.ned to everlasting woe, As soon as he beheld my dear-loved maid, Like falcon, who, descending, aims its blow, Sank in a thought and rose; and soaring, laid Hands on his prize, and s.n.a.t.c.hed her from below.

So quick the rape, that all appeared a dream, Until I heard in air the damsel's scream.

x.x.xIX "The ravening kite so swoops and plunders, when Hovering above the shelterd yard, she spies A helpless chicken near unwatchful hen, Who vainly dins the thief with after cries.

I cannot reach the mountain-robber's den, Compa.s.sed with cliffs, or follow one who flies.

Besides, way-foundered is my weary steed, Who 'mid these rocks has wasted wind and speed.

XL "But I, like one who from his bleeding side Would liefer far have seen his heart out-torn, Left my good squadrons masterless, to ride Along the cliffs, and pa.s.ses least forlorn; And took the way (love served me for a guide) Where it appeared the ruthless thief had born, Ascending to his den, the lovely prey, What time he s.n.a.t.c.hed my hope and peace away.

XLI "Six days I rode, from morn to setting sun, By horrid cliff, by bottom dark and drear; And giddy precipice, where path was none, Nor sign, nor vestiges of man were near.

At last a dark and barren vale I won, Where caverned mountains and rude cliffs appear; Where in the middle rose a rugged block, With a fair castle planted on the rock.

XLII "From far it shone like flame, and seemed not dight Of marble or of brick; and in my eye More wonderful the work, more fair to sight The walls appeared, as I approached more nigh.

I, after, learned that it was built by sprite Whom potent fumes had raised and sorcery: Who on this rock its towers of steel did fix, Case-hardened in the stream and fire of Styx.

XLIII "Each polished turret shines with such a ray That it defies the mouldering rust and rain: The robber scours the country night and day, And after harbours in this sure domain.

Nothing is safe which he would bear away; Pursued with curses and with threats in vain.

There (fruitless every hope to foil his art) The felon keeps my love, oh! say my heart.

XLIV "Alas! what more is left me but to eye Her prison on that cliff's aerial crest?

Like the she-fox, who hears her offspring cry, Standing beneath the ravening eagle's nest; And since she has not wings to rise and fly, Runs round the rugged rock with hopeless quest.

So inaccessible the wild dominion To whatsoever has not plume and pinion.

XLV "While I so lingered where those rocks aspire, I saw a dwarf guide two of goodly strain; Whose coming added hope to my desire (Alas! desire and hope alike were vain) Both barons bold, and fearful in their ire: The one Grada.s.so, King of Sericane, The next, of youthful vigour, was a knight, Prized in the Moorish court, Rogero hight.

XLVI "The dwarf exclaimed, 'These champions will a.s.say Their force with him who dwells on yonder steep, And by such strange and unattempted way Spurs the winged courser from his mountain-keep.'

And I to the approaching warriors say, 'Pity, fair sirs, the cruel loss I weep, And, as I trust, yon daring spoiler slain, Give my lost lady to my arms again.'

XLVII "Then how my love was ravished I make known, Vouching with bitter tears my deep distress.

They proffer aid, and down the path of stone Which winds about the craggy mountain, press.

While I, upon the summit left alone, Look on, and pray to G.o.d for their success.

Beneath the wily wizard's castle strong Extends a little plain, two bow-shots long.

XLVIII "Arrived beneath the craggy keep, the two Contend which warrior shall begin the fight.

When, whether the first lot Grada.s.so drew, Or young Rogero held the honor light, The King of Sericane his bugle blew, And the rock rang and fortress on the height; And, lo! apparelled for the fearful course, The cavalier upon his winged horse!

XLIX "Upwards, by little and by little, springs The winged courser, as the pilgrim crane Finds not at first his balance and his wings, Running and scarcely rising from the plain; But when the flock is launched and scattered, flings His pinions to the wind, and soars amain.

So straight the necromancer's upward flight, The eagle scarce attempts so bold a height.

L "When it seems fit, he wheels his courser round, Who shuts his wings, and falling from the sky, Shoots like a well trained falcon to the ground, Who sees the quarry, duck or pigeon, fly: So, through the parting air, with whizzing sound, With rested lance, he darted from on high; And while Grada.s.so scarcely marks the foe He hears him swooping near, and feels the blow.

LI "The wizard on Grada.s.so breaks his spear, He wounds the empty air, with fury vain.

This in the feathered monster breeds no fear; Who to a distance shifts, and swoops again.

While that encounter made the Alfana rear, Thrown back upon her haunches, on the plain.

The Alfana that the Indian monarch rode, The fairest was that ever man bestrode.

LII "Up to the starry sphere with swift ascent The wizard soars, then pounces from the sky, And strikes the young Rogero, who, intent Upon Grada.s.so, deems no danger nigh.

Beneath the wizard's blow the warrior bent, Which made some deal his generous courser ply; And when to smite the shifting foe he turned, Him in the sky, and out of reach discerned.

LIII "His blows Rogero, now Grada.s.so, bruise On forehead, bosom, back, or flanks, between; While he the warrior's empty blows eschews, Shifting so quickly that he scarce is seen.

Now this, now that, the wizard seems to choose, The monster makes such s.p.a.cious rings and clean, While the enchanter so deceives the knights, They view him not, and know not whence he smites.

LIV "Between the two on earth and him o' the sky, Until that hour the warfare lasted there, Which, spreading wide its veil of dusky dye, Throughout the world, discolours all things fair.

What I beheld, I say; I add not, I, A t.i.ttle to the tale; yet scarcely dare To tell to other what I stood and saw; So strange it seems, so pa.s.sing Nature's law.

LV "Well covered in a goodly silken case, He, the celestial warrior, bore his shield; But why delayed the mantle to displace I know not, and its lucid orb concealed.

Since this no sooner blazes in his face, Than his foe tumbles dazzled on the field; And while he, like a lifeless body, lies, Becomes the necromancer's helpless prize.

LVI "LIke carbuncle, the magic buckler blazed, No glare was ever seen which shone so bright: Nor could the warriors choose but fall, amazed And blinded by the clear and dazzling light.

I, too, that from a distant mountain gazed, Fell senseless; and when I regained my sight, After long time, saw neither knights nor page, Nor aught beside a dark and empty stage.

LVII "This while the fell enchanter, I supposed, Dragged both the warriors to his prison-cell; And by strange virtue of the shield disclosed, I from my hope and they from freedom fell: And thus I to the turrets, which enclosed My heart, departing, bade a last farewell.

Now sum my griefs, and say if love combine Other distress or grief to match with mine."

LVIII The knight relapsed into his first disease, After his melancholy tale was done.

This was Count Pinabel, the Maganzese, Anselmo d'Altaripa's faithless son.

He, where the blood ran foul through all degrees, Disdained to be the only virtuous one; Nor played a simple part among the base, Pa.s.sing in vice the villains of his race.

LIX With aspect changing still, the beauteous dame Hears what the mournful Maganzese narrates; And, at first mention of Rogero's name, Her radiant face with eager joy dilates.

But, full of pity, kindles into flame As Pinabel his cruel durance states.

Nor finds she, though twice told, the story stale; But makes him oft repeat and piece his tale.

LX And, after, when she deemed that all was clear, Cried to the knight, "Repose upon my say.

To thee may my arrival well be dear, And thou as fortunate account this day.

Straight wend me to the keep, sir cavalier, Which holds a jewel of so rich a ray: Nor shalt thou grudge thy labour and thy care, If envious Fortune do but play me fair."

LXI The knight replied, "Then nought to me remains But that I yonder mountain-pa.s.ses show; And sure 'tis little loss to lose my pains, Where every thing is lost I prize below.